Autumn winds, flowers fall, butterflies go, parting. In the depths of the wind and flowers, it is always telling the lingering of the snowy night. Butterflies always find romance and sadness when flowers bloom and fall. In the red dust, when everything flows with the years, there will eventually be, and the sad mark in our minds will not be erased.
Loneliness is hidden deeply, tears in the corners of the eyes, have you ever shed for whom? Moments of fragrance, bright sunshine blooming, and finally, withering into the sadness of fingertips. Soft and boneless words, flooded into desolate feelings. Butterflies come with the flowers, but the flowers go with the wind. When the flowers blossom and fall season after season, I will wander to the end of the world with the blossoms of that year.
The night wind sang the sad things, singing the moonlight away. Looking at the time that no one has stayed in, the eyes are confused, and the confused can never find themselves again. The dripping of a lifetime of acacia wets the paper full of colorful thoughts. If, the blossom is for withering, why, shining the memory of the butterfly?
Sentimental words, remembrance, landscapes that stay in the heart. A night of worry condensed the beginning of prosperity and sank the desolation of the past. The flowers bloomed on the other side, leaving behind the memory of a wreckage.
In the dream, looking at it from afar, in whose dream is the butterfly dance? The end of the world, a smile like a flower, a dust of flowers falling on the ground. Butterfly dance, flowers fall, is so depressed. Faintly painful, always a little bit of memory, a window of whispers, whose heart I have left in?
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